


Rubble

by vampiredio



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Panic Attacks, fuck this guy, i cant wait for dream's eventual downfall, like actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampiredio/pseuds/vampiredio
Summary: Dream has a moment of clarity after the disappearance of Tommy, this is of course his own fault.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Rubble

And then he’s alone.

Staring upwards to a shoddy dirt tower with no apparent peak, the rubble of yesterday laying at his feet. Dream takes a step backwards, his heel collides with a piece of splintering wood as he falls onto the ground; he collapses into the debris, eyes never leaving the pillar to nowhere. 

The red strings connecting him to his friends slowly snap, one by one, leaving not a single thread behind. The knots unfurl as he looks down onto his scarred and calloused palms, was there a time when his skin was soft? Dream heaves himself back up, he stands alone in the crater of what was once Logstedshire. 

He drags his feet through the sand, waves lapping at his heavy boots, he can’t even feel the cool water through the layers of clothing and armor. When was the last time he felt the touch of another person, felt the sun warm and unfiltered on his skin, sunk into a cold bath and let his muscles relax? He picks through his memories, carefully skimming through the past to find something that resembles happiness. 

He can’t think of anything.

The smile on his mask stares back at him from the water, the porcelain is cracked and beaten to hell, and yet, it’s still him. Dream reaches for the worn leather clasp on the back, he wiggles the cheap metal but the release never clicks. For a moment he just stands there, unmoving, looking down at his own reflection as it mocks him. His eyes grow wide, breath caught in his throat as he wordlessly fidgets with the buckle.

He panics.

Dream is crouched in the ocean now, salt water seeping through whatever cracks and creases it can find in his armor. All of the moisture leaves his mouth as he breathlessly wheezes behind the mask, his hands are feverishly working to unclasp the leather strap holding it flush to his face; it only seems to grow tighter the more frustrated he becomes. Something twists in Dream’s stomach, knots itself into tangled webs and clings to his ribcage, pulling and chewing through his insides. His labored breath coats his face in a layer of moisture behind the ever unchanged smile of the mask. He pulls at clumps of his sweaty hair, shaky hands slipping and grasping at anything they can hold.

He stands up.

Dream’s knees threaten to buckle underneath him, his eyes catch a rock next to the remnants of Tommy’s old tent. He can barely feel himself moving, but he knows it’s happening. Wind rushes through his hair and whistles in his ear as it catches the cracks in his mask. His breath is short, gasping for air while the automation under his muscles recklessly moves him closer to the collapsed tent. He stumbles over every step and incline up the beaten path. He looks down upon the jagged formation of the stone; in one swift motion he slams his head against a particularly sharp edge. He feels the weight of the mask split in half, a clean break runs itself down the center. His mask falls limp around his shoulders, leather strap pressed against his neck. He heaves, mercilessly and endlessly as he trembles beneath the weight of his own body. The contents of his stomach sink into the grass until all that’s left is the bile burning his throat. He begins undoing all the latches, clasps and buckles on his armor; the netherite clatters to the ground in a pile and threatens to spill over the hill into the sea. 

He doesn’t care.

He rips at his old tattered clothing while trying to get it off, getting stuck in the arms of his shirt and twisted in his pants. The warmth of his breath dissipates in the evening air, sun setting over the ocean. Orange and pink waves creep up the beach as the tide comes in, he takes one step towards the horizon and feels the cool relief of the sea cleaning all of the dirt and grime from his worn and tired body. Dream wades into the ocean, one stride at a time until the water eventually swallows him entirely.

He doesn’t come up for air.


End file.
